


I've Always Loved Dogs

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Minor Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 21:41:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5264684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From tumblr prompt: "i hired a dog walking company and i’ve never met the person who comes to my apartment but they leave me really cute notes and they give my dog presents and i kind of love them because my dog does and ALSO one of the artists at this gallery opening is hella cute and i want them to paint me like one of their french girls AU"</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Always Loved Dogs

**Author's Note:**

> This is really just a tiny bit of fluff that probably should go in my tumblr prompts post, but I love making dumb Jupiter Ascending jokes so here we are.

It’s genuinely alarming to Octavia to realize that, not only does she need a dog walker, but she’s the kind of person who can afford one.

“Why is this weird?” Clarke asks, not looking up from her phone. Clarke is one of the few people who can always be on her phone without making the person she’s talking to feel ignored. Clarke has a bizarre skill set.

“I grew up poor, remember? I didn’t think I was going to–I don’t know. Dog walkers are like–nannies and cleaning ladies and personal chefs. Things rich people have.”

“Yeah, okay,” Clarke says. “I get that.” She grins. “I’m sure you could just get your brother to do it for you, but he probably gets more from his real job.”

“Any time you want to stop trying to get me to invite my brother to stuff so you can flirt with him is fine with me,” Octavia shoots back. “There’s this new thing called using his number to just ask him out you could try.”

“There’s got to be a snappier name for that,” says Clarke. She puts her phone away and pulls a business-card holder out of her bag, flipping through until she finds one and gives it to Octavia. “Here. Dog-walking agency.”

“How do you just have this on you?” Octavia asks. Clarke’s life is so weird.

“Friend of mine works there,” she says. “Also, I’m amazing. But yeah, he’s a friend, he’ll do a good job.”

“Thanks,” says Octavia.

“And, you know, I get why it’s weird. For what it’s worth. I grew up rich and it was still weird when I realized I could afford to pay someone to come and clean my place once a week, and it was worth it because I fucking hate cleaning my place.”

Octavia has to smile. “Yeah, well, you’re always weird.”

“Takes one to know one. I’m just saying, it’s for Artemis, right? You want your dog to have an awesome life, therefore, you’re hiring a dog walker. It makes sense. You’re not selling out.”

“If Bellamy tells me this is a waste of money, I’m telling him to take it up with you.”

Clarke grins. “Awesome. We can argue about it over drinks.”

*

Octavia sets up the whole dog-walking thing via email, and just leaves the key to her place with Clarke, because of course Clarke got her friend assigned to the job, and she’ll see him anyway for whatever mysterious reasons Clarke has for seeing people. Octavia’s not looking a gift horse in the mouth on this one; she has enough to do without finding a time to meet up with her dog walker.

Octavia got Artemis from a shelter just a few weeks after she graduated from college. Back then, she was excited about independence and finally having a pet of her own, which she never had before. Back then, she’d been living with Bellamy, who was bartending, and it was easy for the two of them to coordinate dog care.

Five years later, she has her own house with a yard for the dog, and a demanding job that involves way too much time at the office. She loves it, it’s amazing, but–someone needs to walk the dog during the day.

The dog walker a godsend, honestly. He sends her a picture of Artemis at the park the first day he’s working, to assure her that everything is going well, and the dog looks so thrilled. Octavia emails back, all enthusiasm, so he just keeps sending things, pictures and short videos of the two of them playing fetch, and it makes her feel a little guilty for not being there, but mostly proud. She’s an adult, she has a great job, she can make sure her dog has the best care possible.

He also leaves cute little notes, which–okay, the actual content of the notes isn’t that cute, just basic stuff like You were out of treats so I bought more and Vet visit went fine, she was a perfect lady, but it’s on this adorable dog stationery and he draws little pictures of Artemis in the corner. It is so fucking cute, Octavia is going to get cavities.

“I still don’t like it,” Bellamy tells her. It’s Saturday and they’re hanging out at the park, and she’s pretty sure Artemis likes her dog walker better than she likes Bellamy, which is the whole reason he’s being a dick about it. “I could walk her.”

“No, you couldn’t. You’re busy and you don’t have a car. You want to take two buses out every day to walk my dog?”

“Dog walkers are a scam,” he mutters.

“You’re a scam.”

“Your face is a scam.”

“Your mom is a scam.”

“I can’t believe you’re using our dead mother to win an argument,” he says, but he’s smiling now.

“Yeah, who raised me?”

“Some asshole, clearly.” He throws Artemis’s frisbee. “It just feels like a waste of money.”

“I know. But I can’t walk her when I’m at work, and the guy who does it is great. He takes her to the park and sends me videos and he even took her to the vet last week.” She grins. “It was Clarke’s idea, and she already agreed that if you want to argue about it, you have to do it with her.”

“Of course it was her idea,” he says, without heat. “She always has money to throw at problems.”

“You guys are ridiculous. I can’t wait for your wedding invitations. In eighty years.”

“The worst part is, my love life is still in better shape than yours,” he says, unruffled. “When’s the last time you had a long-term, pathetic flirtation with my best friend?”

“Your gay best friend?”

“I’m just saying.”

Artemis brings the frisbee to Octavia this time, tail wagging wildly, and Octavia smiles and gives it a throw. “I’m good, honestly. No one’s caught my eye in a while, it’s kind of nice. Remember how I had, like, constant, non-stop crushes all through high school?”

He snorts. “Why do you think I already have gray hair? Jesus, you took years off my life.”

“Yeah, I don’t miss it either,” she says. “I have a kick-ass job, kick-ass friends, and an awesome dog who is now being properly cared for. I don’t need a relationship. And, unlike some people, I’m not pathetically pining, so if something good comes along, I’ll be ready for it.”

“If I raised you, why are you better at life than I am?” he asks, with a teasing smile.

“Natural aptitude. But I’ll do you a favor–Clarke’s got a new show opening at the gallery next week. You can be my plus-one, come and yell at her about how I shouldn’t have a dog walker.”

“Tempting. Am I going to hate the show?”

“It’s nature photography. Don’t tell me you hate nature photography.”

“Just if it’s pretentious.”

“Probably. But it’s Clarke, so there will be free booze. And Clarke.”

“True.” He cracks his neck and stretches his arm, trying to look casual. “If there’s free booze.”

*

As planned, Bellamy as her plus one basically means he wanders off to flirt with Clarke within seconds of arriving at the gallery, leaving Octavia to her own devices. Which is fine; she always likes meeting Clarke’s weird artists and getting into conversations with them. They’re either cool and laid back and fun to talk to, or super weird and pretentious and fun to talk to. Clarke’s gallery openings are the best, seriously.

This show is actually awesome, which is a nice bonus. Clarke does the shows she thinks will make money, which means that there are some number of artistic things that just seem like bullshit to Octavia. But this one is amazing, all stunning landscapes and vistas, the glory of nature in all the best ways.

“That one’s my favorite,” she hears, and jumps a little. The guy next to her is tall and broad, dark-skinned with tattoos poking out under every edge of his clothes, with a short black mohawk and a surprising pair of glasses with thin silver frames.

“Which?” she asks, momentarily rendered mono-syllabic. He is beautiful.

“The middle,” he says. “The shot of the sky through the mountains.”

Octavia has to smile. “That’s what it is, isn’t it? Most people would call it the one of the mountains.”

“It’s my picture,” he says. “That means I get to say what it’s of, and everyone else is wrong.”

She startles. “Oh, you’re--sorry! I didn’t even realize. Clarke usually introduces me to the artists, but I brought my brother to distract her and it worked really well. These are amazing.”

“Thank you,” he says, ducking his head on a smile. He’s at least half a foot taller than she is, but his smile is shy, and he’s one of the least intimidating people she’s ever seen, honestly. “You know Clarke?”

“Yeah, I’m--”

“Oh, good, you guys do know each other!” says Clarke, with either great or terrible timing. “I wasn’t sure you’d ever actually managed to meet.”

“We don’t,” says the artist, sounding surprised. He looks at Octavia, clearly confused. “I don’t think we do. I hope I’d remember you.”

Clarke looks fucking smug as anything, and Octavia feels a strange sinking sensation. She doesn’t know how, but this is somehow Clarke’s revenge. This is something she’s not going to be allowed to live down, for one reason or another.

“No, we haven’t met. I’m Octavia, I went to college with Clarke.”

His eyes widen comically, and he glances at Clarke, who inclines her head like she’s conferring a favor or something. Then he realizes Octavia is offering her hand and shakes it, slow, like he’s making his mind up. “I’m Lincoln. I, um. I think I walk your dog.”

As far as Octavia knows, her jaw has never actually dropped before, but it definitely does. Somehow, it had never occurred to her that her dog walker might be hot. Like, devastatingly hot. How did that not occur to her? All Clarke’s friends are hot. Clarke is like an attractiveness magnet.

“Really?”

“Artemis, right? The shepherd mix?”

“Yeah, that’s her. Wow. I didn’t know--Clarke said you were a friend, she didn’t mention you were one of her artists.”

“I’ve been trying to convince him to let me display his stuff for years,” Clarke says, and Octavia hates her a little for knowing Lincoln for years and never introducing them. Friends don’t not introduce friends to hot, dog-loving artists.

“I told you, I didn’t want to show until I was local,” Lincoln tells Clarke. “I was traveling for a couple years,” he adds, to Octavia. “That’s where I took most of these.”

Okay, she doesn’t have to kill Clarke. If he wasn’t around. And the dog-walking thing was probably part of a whole complicated plan to set them up. It would all be very rom-com, if Octavia had managed to meet him sooner.

It’s admittedly still pretty rom-com. It might be more rom-com. The hot, brilliant artist at Clarke’s gallery is also her dorky dog walker who likes drawing cute puppy cartoons and taking videos of Artemis trying to drink from a water fountain.

“I didn’t think there was anything that cool around here,” Octavia says, grinning.

“The mountains are only an hour away, actually,” he says. “They’re great for hiking. I was--” He ducks his head again, and Octavia is definitely staring. He’s easy to stare at. “I was just thinking the other day that Artemis would probably like them.”

“I bet she would, yeah.”

“I can give you directions,” he offers.

Clarke has wandered off again, so it’s just the two of them. Private. “We’d like it even better if you came along,” she says.

His smile is white and broad, perfect. “I’d like that too.”

*

“For the record,” Octavia says, a week later, “this is how you get a date with a guy. You meet him, you find a mutual interest--”

“I basically did all the legwork,” Clarke protests.

“Take him hiking with your dog, ask if you can buy him dinner. Boom, relationship. It took a week. I don’t know what’s wrong with you.”

“Like I said, I did all your legwork,” she says. She pauses and then adds, “Also, I made out with your brother after the show, so you can stop telling me I have no game.”

“Took like four years,” Octavia says, unrepentant. “You have, like, one game. Maximum.”

“One game.”

“More like half a game.”

Clarke snorts. “Okay, but come on, the dog-walking matchmaking? That was pretty smooth. I was planning that for months.”

“Good job using all your skills on someone else’s love life.”

Her phone buzzes; it’s a text from Lincoln that’s just a bunch of dog emoji, and then a heart. She doesn’t really know what it means, except that he likes dogs and also her, which is exactly what she looks for in boyfriends.

The mind-blowing hotness doesn’t hurt.

“But really,” she says, replying with a heart of her own and stowing the phone. “Thanks. Best dog walker ever.”

Clarke clinks her water against Octavia’s. “Cheers.”


End file.
